


Arizona Boy with an Arizona Blonde

by Abyssiniana



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Arachnophobia, Keith has a secret (he just never really mentioned it), M/M, Modern AU, SHEITH - Freeform, TW: tarantulas & snakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 04:53:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17359343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abyssiniana/pseuds/Abyssiniana
Summary: Across the Universe Secret Santa Exchange gift forSeij!A million apologies for the delay, hope it's worth the waiting!«“I’m pretty sure I mentioned liking exotic animals at some point.” Keith defended himself from the shock painted all over his partner’s face.Shiro stuttered, standing very… very still. “Yeah, like a chinchilla or a fennec, a capybara... but spiders?” And snakes, he noted mentally, after a glance at the large terrariums with habitat simulations on the other side of the division.“They’re tarantulas. And they’re not gross like people make them out to be. Look.”--in which Keith is a photographer with a fiery love for every living thing, which led him to a very peculiar hobby. Shiro… struggles with it.





	Arizona Boy with an Arizona Blonde

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kingseijuro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingseijuro/gifts).



> Special thanks to the dearest [SomeGoodSheith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeGoodSheith/pseuds/SomeGoodSheith) & also [Zeynon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeynon) for beta reading!!

 

Shiro had never stepped foot inside Keith’s house.

 

In the early days of their relationship he often drove through the invisible highways of red desert ground to pick up his boyfriend for a date, and even then was granted nothing but a quick glance by the door. He could rarely make out anything past a dusty rug, an old radio and an immense collection of old vinyls, a couple posters on the walls... There was no particular reason for not being invited in, just as there was no reason for Shiro to want to go into Keith’s home.

 

If it could be called a “home” at all, since Keith ended up spending more time over at Shiro’s than in that cryptid looking desert shack. It wasn’t official, but the couple was essentially living together by the fourth year of their relationship (Keith had claimed his own corner in the closet, his toothbrush in the bathroom, his _“reserved to be used by me and me alone”_ mug in the cupboard, his bike in the garage… they were essentially married at the eyes of anyone else).

 

At least once a month, however, Keith always returned to the mysterious shack; he _insisted_ to spend one night there, alone. Shiro had never asked why, but he did wonder.

 

Perhaps it had to do with… memories? A regular grieving period? From what Shiro had gathered from the snippets of the past he was occasionally allowed in half-conscious droplets of information, Keith and his father had lived there prior to the sudden passing of the oldest Kogane. Keith was but a boy of twelve back then, thrown into the foster caring system until he was found by the man he came to warm up to and eventually know as a lover.

 

If that were the case, Shiro knew better than to meddle. Keith had a very particular and private way of dealing with heavy feelings and was often better off exploring them within the confinements of his own heart and mind rather than venting with his partner.

 

In due time, perhaps… he would be allowed a closer encounter with the house his boyfriend had lived in.

 

* * *

 

All was well until an unlabeled box from… _Fluker’s_ (whatever that was…) was delivered at Shiro’s doorstep. Keith had, of course, asked for permission to have an order being sent to Shiro’s, but for that effect and general post office pleasantries, he had to use Shiro’s name in the order. The latter, half-intrigued, half-completely-forgetting-what-that-big-package-may-be and to whom it was truly addressed, proceeded to open it.

 

“And that’s how I got a bunch of living crickets hopping around in my apartment,” Shiro lamented over lunch with his friends, before sipping on his beer, forearms keeping his whole body from slouching on top of the table.

 

Lance was holding his sides, somewhere in the limbo between laughing and shrieking - a mix of both, effectively getting on Shiro’s nerves (and everyone else who sat close to them in the restaurant). Allura, ever so elegant, giggled behind her drink, struggling with remaining serious.

 

“You’re the bestest friends in the whole wide world.” Shiro shook his head, determined to accept that drinking alcohol before his meal would become a regular habit. He ordered a refill with a gesture towards the waitress, “Mock me at will.”

 

“Why on Earth would Keith order live crickets for?” Allura questioned before tossing a green olive from their snack plate into her mouth.

 

“I thought he was vegetarian. Don’t bugs count as meat?” Lance added as he descended from the bliss of laughter into a calmer manner of speaking with occasional giggle hiccups.

 

“He’s not going to eat them,” of that Shiro was fairly certain; there was no way Keith would be cooking bugs in _his_ kitchen or eating them raw with the same mouth that always kissed him goodmorning or goodnight, “but I just can’t wrap my head over why he would have bugs delivered to my place. What would he need them for?”

 

“Maybe it’s an homage to the only crowd that laughs at his jokes? Get it? Crickets? ’Cause _no one_ ever does? It may also be an elaborate way of breaking up with you.” Lance recklessly teased, which earned him a light smack on the head by his wife.

 

“Oh hush it, Lance, Keith loves Shiro more than your little head can ever fathom--”

 

“Maybe his favorite sport is CRICKET--” The second strike was stronger and open palmed, aimed to his upper arm. As Lance whined the pulsing ache away, Shiro silently thanked the woman who sat across from him for saving him the trouble of getting up and hitting Lance himself.

 

“What are you going to do now?”

 

“I called Keith, but he didn’t pick up... “ Shiro uselessly ran his thumb over the inanimate screen of his smartphone. “He did say he would be doing a photoshoot until eight, so I guess I’ll have to wait until he comes home, because I am _not_ stepping foot in that house until it’s bug-free and disinfected.”

 

Yeah, Shiro suffered from… not a _phobia_ , but rather an aversion. Bugs and general insects were fine so long as they weren’t too close to him. Blame it on those summers of his youth spent in the wild fields of rural Japan that always ended up with chaotic mosquito bites, leeches on his back after a swim, accidentally touching a _denki mushi_ , phantom crawling sensations up his body in his sleep, and unending allergies that dragged on and on until his legs and thighs were scratched to a near raw flesh state.

 

The one good thing about the countryside was the lack of light pollution that made the stars more visible, but that aside, the city was a safe haven.

 

Living bugs roaming about his third floor apartment felt like a horrendous prank, but he trusted Keith enough to believe his lover would have an explanation prepared for him. And hopefully a way to exterminate the damn things from his house at once. He wasn’t looking forward to renting a motel room for the night, but if he had to, then so be it.

 

Their meals came in turns, as Romelle could only carry one plate at once to avoid dropping them. Suddenly the steak and chips before him seemed like a dread to eat, and he only tackled it down because his friends were offering the meal.

 

Keith would have an explanation for this… _Right?_

 

* * *

 

“Why did you open the box?” Keith questioned with a raised brow. Shiro was about to apologize for crossing the line of Keith’s privacy and explain that he had quite honestly forgotten that he was expecting an order for Keith, but stopped himself. _He_ was the one entitled to a few answers, not the other way around.

 

_Why did_ **_you_ ** _order a box of crickets? What are you going to do with them? Did you find them all? Can you promise I won’t wake up with a cricket on my face? I have bug spray, do you need it to kill them?_

 

All those questions combined into a barely audible exasperated and missable, “ _Why_...?”

 

“I mean, I’m glad you did, at least these little fellows took the freedom to feast on your fruit basket, but it was a pain to get all hundred of them back in their place. Well… Ninety-three; seven of them were dead inside the box.” Keith peeked inside the box that hosted the collected crickets, remnants of the food they had claimed scattered about the bottom. “Y’all are an adventurous bunch, ain’t ya?”

 

Now that was a sight to behold. Shiro blinked in disbelief, keeping two or three feet between them. “Keith… are you baby-talking the bugs?”

 

“Just because they’re food doesn’t mean I can’t spoil them until they meet their fate. They have to get fat and big and yummy-”

 

“Oh my god, tell me you’re not eating those--”

 

“Of course not!” Keith frowned, holding the box almost protectively. “They’re for my girls.”

 

… What the _fuck_.

 

* * *

 

Shiro had never stepped foot inside Keith’s house and he finally found out why. Several terrariums and containers were lined up in tables.

 

“I’m pretty sure I mentioned liking exotic animals at some point.” Keith defended himself from the shock painted all over his partner’s face.

 

Shiro stuttered, standing very… _very_ still. “Yeah, like a chinchilla or a fennec, a capybara... but _spiders_?” And snakes, he noted mentally, after a glance at the large terrariums with habitat simulations on the other side of the division.

 

“They’re tarantulas. And they’re not gross like people make them out to be. Look.”

 

As Shiro feared he would, Keith picked one of the biggest glass containers that lined up on the closest table, setting in on the floor and sitting down cross legged in front of it.

 

“This one is an Arizona Blonde. She was my first, I found her fourteen years ago.” Keith smiled, tugging on the web as he pulled the top of the tarantula’s container. Oh, she was… _big_ . Bigger than Shiro would think (read, _hope_ ) tarantulas could get. A good four inches of a fast crawler with a dark brown body and pale hair sticking out from her legs, as she immediately reacted to the cricket that was fed to her with a tweezers. To say she ate would be an understatement; the tarantula completely devoured the cricket, silencing it of its aggravating song. “Oh, you want more? We’re greedy today, aren’t we, Krolia? Alright, one more. Here you go.”

 

“... You named a tarantula after your mum?”

 

“Once you get to know her, you’ll see how the name fits her.”

 

Shiro couldn’t say he was looking forward to becoming acquainted with the arachnid, but he did dare to finally move from where he previously stood. He walked to where Keith was, peeking over the enclosure to see the amazing thread work of the tarantula, gorgeous silks woven with natural instinct to create her web. The specimen by itself was a threatening presence right in the middle of the heavy webbing, front legs pushing the last of the cricket into her little mouth.

 

“She’s really pretty, honestly.” Shiro admitted at last.

 

Keith smiled at that, not looking away from the Arizona Blonde. “Wait until you see the others.”

 

* * *

 

Watching Keith feed his pets ( _“they’re not pets, Shiro, I’m not their owner. If anything it’s the other way around”_ ) and change their water was actually interesting. Shiro learned more about tarantulas than he ever thought he would, and found it rather fascinating. He had learned that the New World tarantulas came from the Western hemisphere and were coated in urticating hairs that flicked at the first sign of threat; and that Old Worlds, originating from the Eastern hemisphere, lacked those hairs but instead relied on a more powerful venom, which made them more aggressive, faster and more skittish than the other type.

 

His ignorant mind would have labelled them all as “spiders” only, which was about enough for someone who preferred to stay away from crawlers, bugs and insects, but as it turned out, Keith had him interested.

 

He even let Shiro feed one of the most docile species, carefully walking him through the process of teasing the shy arachnid from her safety burrow with a long string of grass to come obtain her crunchy meal.

 

While Keith rehoused his Malaysian Earthtiger into a larger container to better suit the needs of her growing size, Shiro offered to drive to town to bring themselves some pizza (he did **not** need to be around if there was a chance the big Arboreal creeper could escape). After he returned and all the animals were taken care of, the couple ate their veggie pizza while sitting on the swingset in the front porch, legs wagging lightly to make them sway. Even in summer, Arizonian nights were chilly, but Keith provided a blanket to be shared by them both, Keith’s head leaning on his boyfriend’s shoulder as he munched on his slice. A piece of corn fell to Keith’s lap, which Shiro unceremoniously picked with his fingers and fed back to Keith’s mouth; he joked about feeding Keith with a tweezers, to see how _he_ liked that.

 

He always loved when he had the chance to simply relax with his partner. Life in the city didn’t always allow them as much free time as they wanted, between Shiro’s exhausting work as a pediatrician and Keith with his photoshoots, and their “social duties” to meet their friends for lunch or dinner every week or so. To be alone with Keith, just two lovefools and the infinity of the Universe in a vast desert landscape that bled into a dark sky--

 

“I lived with my dad here.” Keith suddenly shared, snatching Shiro from his mental processing of the experience. His lover didn’t usually bring up his father, but when he did, Shiro knew it was out of the desire to share despite not quite knowing how. It was an attempt at bonding, at letting Shiro through the walls around his precious heart. “Until he… yeah. But uh... it was nice. I missed this sky. We used to stargaze together.”

 

“Was he, uh… Into tarantula-keeping as well?”

 

“My dad?! Fuck no,” Keith chuckled with his heart on his voice, and it was the most magical sound Shiro had ever had the honor to hear, “the man had a heart attack every time I picked one up from the road and brought it home. One time I decided I wanted to keep a scorpion I found in the desert as a pet? I’ve never seen him as pale as when I burst the door open, holding the little guy up… _I’mma name him Steven, Pop! Whatcha think?!_ ”

 

Shiro laughed along with his boyfriend, pulling the blanket tighter around them both. Even as he diverted his gaze towards the night sky above them, his thoughts remained on Keith. Keith, whose eyes the Universe poorly mirrored in a vast expanse of stars and galaxies and supernovas. Keith, who, one day, would say yes to the question Shiro held behind layers of shyness and a dumb fear of rejection.

 

Keith, whose passion laid in three things: photography, exotic animals and Shiro.

 

“Hey, Keith?” A lazy, sleep-coated _hmm_ echoed in response, “Promise me you’ll never bring a scorpion home.”


End file.
